


spanking!!! on ice

by fictornikiforov



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Punishment, Scolding, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictornikiforov/pseuds/fictornikiforov
Summary: Viktor's heart is racing and his dick is hard and he's staring at the carpet, trying to remember how he got in this position. He wonders this every time Yuuri decides it's time for another spanking.





	

Viktor wonders why no one else seems to see in Yuuri what he does, which sounds far more romantic than it is. Well, it _is_ romantic; that is, there is a romantic side to it. He _does_ see things in Yuuri that he feels no one else has quite picked up on and it's both a travesty and a relief, he supposes, because if someone else had figured it out first there would have been _no_ chance that they would have let Yuuri get away. Yuuri would have ended up with someone else and then Viktor would have never danced with him at their fated banquet or watched him skate his own routine on video or shown up at his place to coach him, just as he asked. He also never would have _actually_ coached him, angered him, amused him; he would have never made him cry or cried because of him. He would have never taken him shopping in Barcelona or gotten engaged to him.

            He also would not have ended up over Yuuri’s knee on the bed, his palms on the floor and his legs trapped between his, held still by his unsurprisingly strong thighs.

            He noticed that Yuuri only needed a suggestion – just some slight encouragement – and he was a completely different person. Or maybe not different. Everything about Yuuri _was_ Yuuri. But no one saw the _eros_ side before Viktor.

            Why not? Viktor has no idea. He supposes he had an unfair advantage, though. He got a peek at that Yuuri at the banquet. Which means everyone else should have, too. Why is he thinking about this right now? Oh, becausehis heart is racing and his dick is hard and he's staring at the carpet, trying to remember how he got in this position. He wonders this every time Yuuri decides it's time for another spanking.

            This time it was because he wouldn't stop trying to unbutton Yuuri’s pants while he was on the phone. He doesn't even know who he was talking to but he wanted him to get off the phone so he could _him_ off. Yuuri gave him that warning look – the one that he _knows_ does the opposite of discouraging Viktor. He always wants to see it again so he persists. Yuuri should really find a less sexy expression to make when he wants Viktor to back off.

            (If he really wanted Viktor to stop, he would have said so; he _wanted_ Viktor to keep going. Because he _wanted_ to get him over his knee like this.)

            Yuuri always manages to make it a form of discipline – even the time Viktor literally tripped over Makkachin and stumbled onto Yuuri’s lap when he was passing by him on the couch – but they never manage to get to the point that Yuuri has always wanted, where he makes Viktor stand in the corner with his hands on his head, if just to get ten minutes of silence from him. They never get to it because they get too hard and Viktor can't resist slipping between Yuuri’s legs and sucking him off.

            Last time, Yuuri used a hairbrush. It was fitting as he was punishing Viktor for making them late to a dinner. Viktor has never left his grooming tools out since then. But Yuuri made him grab it from the bathroom before they started and put it on the floor just inches from his face. Viktor gets to stare at it and anticipate.

            Yuuri hasn't even started yet. The first time they did it it was because Viktor suggested it. He wanted to see Yuuri get dominant again. Viktor always preferred to bottom so Yuuri always topped but he tended to be a little romantic and a little nervous. Viktor liked coaxing that domineering side out. He'd sacrifice his ass for that Yuuri. The whole _point_ was to sacrifice his ass, so it all worked out.

            Yuuri is stroking his skin with his fingernails, from his scalp at the top of the head all the way down to either thigh. It makes Viktor shiver. He thinks it's what Yuuri does to get into character. Sometimes he takes his glasses off. Viktor prefers it when he doesn’t.

            “Yuuri…”

            “Yes?”

            “Are you going to…”

            Viktor wiggles his legs slightly in anticipation. Yuuri is good at this because he doesn't order Viktor around. He doesn't tell him to shut up or keep still or threaten him with worse. He likes forcing Viktor to hold a conversation throughout actually, which might be _more_ sadistic, really. It's practically impossible, especially near the end, when he finishes it off harder than he started. Yuuri has bruised him before, which was a surprise to both of them. Neither had realized he was hitting that hard. He was actually adorable the next day when Viktor showed him. He started squeaking and apologizing and rubbed even more lotion on him. He kissed him all day and banished himself to the couch at night. Viktor let him lay there for an hour before he came out and picked him up and brought him back to bed.

            “I'm just trying to think of what I want to say.”

            He means that in two ways, Viktor knows. He's trying to act aloof and dominant. But he's _actually_ trying to think of what to say. It always takes him some time.

            Viktor kicks his legs again.

            “All the blood is rushing to my head.”

            Sometimes Viktor has to jumpstart it. Yuuri slaps his ass at his remark and Viktor winces.

            “You're not upside down, that’s not how that works.”

            “Yuuri.”

            “You're in no position to use that tone with me right now,” he says, his voice finally hitting that register that Viktor knows so well. It goes straight to his dick. “That's the voice you used to use the first year you were my coach.”

            “Well, you're acting a lot like the Yuuri I knew that first year.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means what if instead of spanking me, you let me get you off instead?”

            “Oh, you're going to get me off,” Yuuri says plainly. He shifts on the bed, shifting Viktor along with him. “But you're going to do it with a red ass.” There's a pause. Viktor sighs. “Wow, I felt your dick move. Did that turn you on?”

            “Yuuri.”

            Yuuri is right. He does have a _tone._ The monotonously frustrated one that he used to use when Yuuri was being stubborn or too self-absorbed. He still uses it. He doesn't know why Yuuri thinks he doesn't.

            But it must provide the inspiration Yuuri's been searching for. His hand comes down against Viktor’s ass, hard enough to make him moan in surprise but soft enough to only leave momentary pain. He always starts out soft but fast. Viktor keeps letting out little, “Ow”s and “Oh”s and “Ugh”s as Yuuri peppers his ass with little swats, the palm of his hand open and cupping just enough to cover the most area he can.

            “I said don't use that tone,” he says eventually as he stops. “That's for using the voice I hate. Now you get punished for the other thing.”

            Those slaps come a bit harder. Viktor groans throatily at the first few, lifting his head up in surprise. They're in the same area – the middle of either cheek, which is never where Yuuri ends up. He starts in the less sensitive areas. He'll get to the worse ones soon enough.

            “When I'm on the phone, you don't bother me, understand?”

            “You wanted me to.”

            Yuuri betrays himself. He lets out the tiniest giggle before he coughs to cover it up. Then he slaps even harder. The pain is definitely starting to become more lasting now; they’re not just little swats that sting for a moment. They're hard swats. That sting forever. Viktor lifts himself up all the way by his arms.

            “Don't tell me what I wanted,” he admonishes. “When I tell you to settle down, you need to settle down, do you understand?”

            It's not unbearable yet, but it's getting close. Still, Viktor thinks he has the slightest bit more fight in him.

            “But Yuuri,” he coos. “You were speaking Japanese. I didn't know what you were saying. What if you were talking about me?” 

            Yuuri laughs again, only this time it's malicious and frightening.

            “Of course.” Viktor can hear the smile in his voice. “I forgot. Everything is always about you.”

            Viktor lifts his head again and grins.

            “Well. Yes. Is that a question?”

            Yuuri laughs lightly. It's gentler than before. If he weren't busy reddening Viktor’s entire ass right now, he'd actually say something embarrassingly sweet, like, _“Well, can you blame anyone, when you're as beautiful as you are?”_ and then he'd cover his face and bury himself into Viktor's chest to avoid eye contact. He's been being more vocal about his adoration for Viktor lately. Viktor is ecstatic.

            Right now, however, is not one of those romantic times.

            “Hand me the hairbrush.”

            “Huh?!” Viktor's heart skips a beat. “Already?”

            “I said hand me the hairbrush,” Yuuri says, slapping him once, the hardest yet, right in the middle of his ass, over both cheeks. Viktor cries out and reaches back instinctively.

            “Every time,” Yuuri says incredulously, grabbing his wrist and pinning it against the small of his back. Viktor whines loudly.

            “No,” he cries. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

            “Hairbrush.”

            “I can't with only one hand!”

            “You better figure it out. If it's not in my hand in ten seconds you're going to be very sorry.”

            Viktor lets his upper body hang low as he picks up the hairbrush with his only free hand. He hands it upwards and Yuuri takes it from him. Viktor tests his grip and pulls his captured hand slightly.

            “You really want me to let go?”

            He's giving Viktor a chance to use his safe word.

            “Yes,” he moans loudly. Dramatically. “Please stop. It hurts so bad. I learned my lesson.”

            “I don't think you have,” Yuuri says smugly. He readjusts again, pulling Viktor's body around carelessly like a ragdoll. “Otherwise you wouldn't be over my knee _again.”_

            “Really,” Viktor insists, his body recoiling when he feels the wood of the brush rub against his skin. “Really! Please don't use the brush, it really hurts.”

            That much is true. Wooden hairbrushes are horrible. But Yuuri probably can't bring himself to believe him when he plants his feet against the floor and shoves his ass up into the air more. He's switched tones, too. It doesn't take long for Viktor to get into character once Yuuri is. He's overdramatic and apologetic and Yuuri loves it.

            “Sorry. If you want to act bratty then I'll treat you like a brat.” He finally moves their bodies one last time, making sure he has ample room to swing his arm. The worst part for Viktor is when he slides his legs down a bit, exposing much more of Viktor’s thighs. Those are his next target. Viktor is desperate to build up his tolerance. Right now he can't take much on his sit spot before he's really squirming. “Are you ready?”

            “No.”

            The brush comes crashing down against his skin. He curses so loudly that Yuuri shushes him on instinct before remembering they're in their own condo.

            “Did that hurt?”

            “Yes!”

            “Good.”

            The brush comes down again just as hard on his other cheek. He curses again, softer, but just as harshly. Yuuri’s hand comes next, rubbing the spots he's hit gently. They sting really bad. Viktor loves it.

            “Why do you spank me, Yuuri?” he asks. He's prompting him. “Why are you so mean to me?”

            “Because I'm a sadist and love seeing your ass like this. Up in the air. Presented to me. At my mercy.”

            Viktor’s dick twitches again. He's silent, hoping Yuuri will continue.

            “Maybe I like marking you so everyone else knows you're mine,” he says. “Maybe I'm possessive.”

            _“Maybe?”_

            Yuuri slaps the brush down again, but not nearly as hard.

            “Don't be a brat.”

            “But you like it when I'm a brat. It gives you a reason to punish me.”

            Yuuri laughs once again. He rubs the brush against Viktor’s ass more and sighs loudly.

            “That's right. So you're really going to hate what's about to happen.”

            “What's about to happen?”

            “I'm going to punish you, Viktor. For being a brat.”

            And that's what he does. The hairbrush is immediate and relentless; not nearly as hard as the first two swats or even the third, but when there's so many in a row, the sting never fades away before there's another one, often in the same spot. Yuuri is pretty good at varying the locations of each slap but sometimes he does it on the same bit of skin four times in a row, just to get Viktor really kicking. It feels like forever when it's really only been ten twenty seconds, and Viktor is already groaning again, the little “Oh”s and “Ow”s getting louder. Yuuri still has his hand pinned too. All he can do is raise his head as high as he can and try to wiggle his hips away from the onslaught.

            “Too much in one spot?”

            “Yes!”

            “Okay,” Yuuri says. “I’ll move on.”

            “Wait!” Viktor says suddenly, quickly aware of the implication. “No, no! Don't go low!”

            “Then should I stay here?” Yuuri swats him six more times just to drive his point home. Viktor grits his teeth and moans at each one of them.

            “No!” he cries. His skin feels raw. It hurts more lower down but at least it's been untouched up to now – and the sooner Yuuri gets to it, the sooner the spanking is over and Viktor gets to suck his dick while rubbing his own ass better. Yuuri tries to rub the ointment on him before the blowjob. Viktor can never wait that long to get Yuuri's dick down his throat.

            “Think about how bad this hurts the next time I warn you about being a brat.”

            Viktor is in the middle of swallowing when Yuuri shifts him up more to get an even better angle on his thighs. The spit gets stuck in his throat and he chokes when Yuuri finally starts.

            The wood is cold and unforgiving and the area where his ass and thighs meet is so soft and weak and offers little protection from anything Yuuri likes to use on it. Most of his ass is pretty defenseless really, seeing how muscular it is. He’s never spanked Yuuri but it probably wouldn't hurt him as much. His ass was rounder and fatter and it's the only thing that gets Viktor through the first ten or so but it’s not enough after that.

            “Hhh… Yuuri…”

            His entire chest is in the air. His head is up and facing the wall opposite him. He has a tight grip on the side of the bed.

            “This is what happens to brats who don't listen to their fiancés,” Yuuri says dismissively. “Remember this next time.”

            “I’m sorry,” Viktor breathes. The brush goes from his lower cheek to his upper thigh and then starts over on the next one. He starts taking in deeper breaths and letting them out louder. He doesn't know if it's going to bruise this time but he's _definitely_ going to have a hard time sitting at practice tomorrow. Yuuri will probably have to tie his skates up for him. As much as Viktor enjoys showing off his fiancé, he gets embarrassed about the spankings. Only the physical therapist knows. And Viktor actually blushed when he had to tell him.

            He'll probably text Chris a picture of it just a few hours from now, though. What should he say with it? _You're move._ He and Chris challenge each other on a daily basis. Who can be kinkier? So far they're tied.

            Viktor can't decide if this is worth it though. Well, he always wonders that in the moment. But it only takes about a week before he pokes at Yuuri to do it again.

            “How many has that been?”

            Yuuri's question actually makes Viktor gasp.

            “What? I don't know! You've never told me to keep count!”

            “It was seventy,” he says. Viktor lets out a huge gulp of air.

            _“Seventy?”_

            It never feels like that much. Yuuri slaps the middle of his ass again and he yelps.

            “Ready for the last six?”

            Viktor mewls in defeat. The last six are the worst. And he's harder than ever.

            “Yuuri…”

            Yuuri's fingers grip his left cheek and pull it up, exposing what little paleness must be left on his inner thigh. Viktor winces in anticipation.

            Three hard smacks hit him right where he sits down. He lets out another rush of air. Only three more. Yuuri lifts up the other cheek.

            “Are you going to bother me when I’m on the phone again?”

            “No.”

            “No,” Yuuri repeats. “You're not.”

            The last three smacks, right on the _other_ spot that he sits down on. Perilously close to even more important parts of his anatomy. Not that it's ever been a threat, but the panic is instinctual.

            Viktor sighs loudly. Yuuri lets go of his hand.

            “One day I'm going to get you to cry.”

            Viktor looks backwards at him, half angry, half shocked. Yuuri is grinning at him knowingly.

            “Seriously?”

            “Wh – no! Of course not! I’m joking!”

            Viktor rolls his eyes at him.

            “How quickly you lose that domineering tone once it's over,” he says sarcastically. He slips off Yuuri’s lap and falls between his legs, lifting himself up on his shins and rubbing his ass unceremoniously.

            “What, you'd _want_ me to hit so hard you cry?”

            “Maybe,” he says, reaching for Yuuri’s fly and undoing his jeans. “You think I'm pretty when I cry, don't you?”

            Viktor doesn't know if it's the reminder of their first time in Barcelona or the fact that he's pawing at his dick to get it out of his jeans that makes Yuuri flustered, but he doesn't answer. Viktor takes his hand and puts it in his hair.

            “Come on,” he insists. “Find that _eros_ again. I like it better when you're in control.”

            Yuuri’s hand immediately tightens in Viktor’s hair and pulls his head up to look him in the eye.

            “Please,” Yuuri says darkly. “Don't act like this is your idea. You know sucking me off is the second part of every punishment.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> xposted to my [yoi fic tumblr](https://fictornikiforov.tumblr.com/post/157844036325/spanking-on-ice-info-below-the-cutmore-3082/), which also has commission info on it if you are so inclined


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